


sunset note

by strifelines



Series: no certain destination [2]
Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: 10k of smut me at myself what the fuc, Anal Sex, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Marking, Not quite PWP, kind of intense sex? not rough but intense?, post No.MERCY, pre NSLTMIWHTB, set around June 2015, the aftermath of wonho's clubbing scandal lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-09 22:42:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11114412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strifelines/pseuds/strifelines
Summary: “It’s pretty,” Hyungwon says, just as Gunhee feels the lethargy settle in. He glances over; Hyungwon is looking out of the window, where Hannam Bridge has just come into view. The sky has long since darkened, and the lights have been turned on; they’re visible, along with their reflection on the water, even from a distance. Gunhee only manages to catch a glimpse of it before the city hides it away again, behind skyscrapers and glossy cars. “But only at night.”A rule broken after three months of silence, long before it becomes an exception.





	sunset note

**Author's Note:**

> she is BACK and she is bringing FILTH with her!! as this fic is set before NSLTMIWHTB, reading the other fics in the series is not necessary 2 enjoy this <3 ;;
> 
>  
> 
> **CWs: explicit sexual content, anal sex, kind of intense sex, marking, mentions of drinking.**

Hyungwon asks him to come to the river with him one day, out of the blue, while he’s on a smoke break. He is smiling, just a little bit, but it is tight around the edges and doesn’t quite reach the corners of his eyes.

 

Three months have passed since No.Mercy ended, and only one month since Monsta X debuted as Starship’s brand new, shiny boy group. It is the first time Hyungwon has approached Gunhee at all in that time. To say it catches him by surprise is a little bit of an understatement, and to say he doesn’t know how to feel past that is…

 

Well.

 

He says yes, even if it’s unexpected. He’s not sure what the tightness in Hyungwon’s smile means, either, but he takes it in stride. They meet later, just after sunset, when the sky stretches from pale purple to blue to a slim strip of golden orange in a horizontal gradient. Hyungwon holds himself with oblivious casualness, thumbs tucked into his pockets.

 

It makes Gunhee feel conscious of how awkward he feels, like he’s not supposed to feel this way. But that’s what happens when people are only friends by convenience, by history. They’re in the same social group, but they don’t talk. The last time they’d been alone together like this had been just after the elimination. Sure, he’d sort of… drifted to collect his thoughts and rehome himself in his body after No.Mercy, but when he’d come back, Hyungwon hadn’t really moved over and made a gap for him to fit into again.

 

He’s okay with that. Of course he’s okay with that. Hyungwon has always been distanced, and that’s okay.

 

The hallways of the building are air conditioned well to battle the late June heat, and the heat prickles at Gunhee’s forehead and the exposed skin of his arms. Beside him, Hyungwon puts on a face mask with an ease that only comes with practice. He doesn’t want to go to Banpo Bridge like Gunhee thought he would, either.

 

“Too many people that could recognize me,” he explains, though with a tone that is just slightly incredulous, like he can’t believe Gunhee hasn’t figured it out for himself already. Three months make the quirk of his brows seem mocking. _Me_ , not _us_. Gunhee bites back a retort – _are you popular enough for that?_ – and they decide on Hannam Bridge, instead.

 

They end up forgoing the train for a taxi. Hyungwon leans in once Gunhee settles after rattling off the address, close enough that his breathing would have warmed Gunhee’s cheek if it hadn’t been for the face mask. “I’ll pay,” he whispers, with the air of someone trying hard not to disturb the silence. Gunhee tries to be quiet when he responds, too, but he’s barely gotten the first clumsy syllable of ‘you don’t have to’ out before Hyungwon is continuing: “Buy me soju and we’ll call it even.”

 

When he leans back, his eyes are crinkled, just a bit. It’s almost as if he’s teasing – like Gunhee had imagined the furrow of his brow earlier, the strain in his voice. He can’t keep himself from imagining what’s under the mask: maybe his lips are twisted, and he’s doing that thing with his mouth when he’s trying not to smile – the one where his lips shape themselves triangular. The driver hadn’t bothered turning on the light, but Gunhee thinks about doing so himself, if only to be able to make out what he can see of Hyungwon’s expression more easily.

 

Then Hyungwon turns his head to stare out the window, the passing streetlights bronzing the plumpness of his cheek in short bursts, and the urge passes. Gunhee can hear the faint sound of someone singing, a slow and soulful song he can’t really put his finger on, over the stereo; he asks the driver to turn the volume up, so it doesn’t blend so much with the whir of the engine. The driver isn’t very talkative, thankfully, and they spend the rest of the ride in silence, watching Seoul amble past through smeared taxi windows. The woman on the stereo sings a sweet serenade, bringing the song to a close so it can melt into another. It’s peaceful.

 

He wonders, belatedly, what it’s like for Hyungwon, who never could keep the fondness from colouring his voice whenever he spoke of Gwangju. Is Seoul a home to him, now, the humid air and the concrete jungle all coming together in a picture of familiarity? Or is he like Gunhee, who has moved around so much in his life that he can’t put places to the word ‘home’, but people instead?

 

“It’s pretty,” Hyungwon says, just as Gunhee feels the lethargy settle in. He glances over; Hyungwon is looking out of the window, where Hannam Bridge has just come into view. The sky has long since darkened, and the lights have been turned on; they’re visible, along with their reflection on the water, even from a distance. Gunhee only manages to catch a glimpse of it before the city hides it away again, behind skyscrapers and glossy cars. “But only at night.”

 

Gunhee can sort of understand where Hyungwon’s coming from: Hannam Bridge is always noisy in the day, a stretched out span of gray steel and concrete. It’s in the most convenient part of Seoul, and thus is always congested with traffic that seems just as colourless and gray as the bridge itself. It’s transitional: just a means to get from one place to another. At night, though, it changes, lighting up green and gold, vivid and bright against the skyline and the water. People usually overlook it since Banpo Bridge is the next one over, with its rainbow fountains.

 

A familiar song comes on just before they arrive, but Gunhee can’t quite but his finger on where and when he’s heard it. He manages to catch the first few lines of it as Hyungwon pays for the ride, and they stay with him all through buying a bottle of soju for the both of them to share.

 

“The song that played last,” Gunhee starts, watching the lights of the bridge play on the rolling waves of the river. He has to speak a little louder so his voice doesn’t get drowned out from the distant roar the river makes as it rushes against the bank walls, under the hum of people chattering, caught in their own tiny bubbles. “It was nice.”

 

“Yeah?” Hyungwon steals both the soju and Gunhee’s hat from him, angling the latter on his head so it shadows his face. “I don’t think I was paying attention.”

 

“It’s familiar. I think I’ve heard it before.” He hums a little bit of it before he forgets how it goes. “I don’t know where, though.”

 

Hyungwon takes a swig and passes the bottle to Gunhee. “Giving and receiving scars is part of being human, and I don’t think I was scared of that.”

 

It feels like the wind has been knocked out of him. He covers it up by drinking from the bottle, letting the familiar taste of it spread over his tongue, on the back of his teeth. “What?”

 

“Those are the lyrics, aren’t they? Pass.” Hyungwon doesn’t even turn to look at him, but he sings that part of the song: low and soothing and a little bit cruel. That’s how Gunhee would describe his voice. It’s not the first time he’s sang in front of him, but every time he does it, something strange and complicated knots at the back of Gunhee’s neck, warming his ears. “Didn’t you listen to this song with me?”

 

If Hyungwon’s singing hadn’t made him straighten before, this does. “Really?”

 

“Yeah, I think it was with you,” Hyungwon murmurs, turning towards him. He has that _look_ on his face again, the one Gunhee had imagined earlier in the car: the contained smile Hyungwon can’t hold back, crinkled eyes, cheeks pushed up. He’s momentarily stunned by it, and how similar yet entirely different it is to the one he has printed in his mind’s eye. It’s one of the expressions that look the softest on Hyungwon. He doesn’t like it. It pushes all the bad things they’ve said to each other to the back of Gunhee’s mind, like a flickering, static buzz; makes the tension roll off his shoulders; makes the familiarity into… something. Still familiarity, but just a different kind he can’t really put a finger on.

 

He hasn’t been able to name it for… a really long time.

 

Gunhee can never bring himself to break the feeling, though. It takes too much energy to, once it really settles in. This time, though, there’s something lurking at the backs of his ears, the nape of his neck; it keeps him on edge, uncomfortable with this familiarity. “I don’t remember.”

 

“It was a long time ago.” He looks away again. “…A year, I think? I’d just joined Starship.”

 

 _You remember something from that long ago?_ Gunhee wants to ask, but swallows it around a mouthful of soju before it makes its way out. There’s something about these… times? Moments? – that makes Gunhee forget that they’re just transitional, just stretched out spaces. “We’ve known each other for that long?”

 

“Does it not feel like it?”

 

“Not really,” Gunhee admits, though not for the reasons most would jump to.

 

It’s been one and a half years and he still hasn’t figured out _Hyungwon_ , in his entirety. It’s been one and a half years and the need to do that has been left dormant, somewhere between his name not being called on that stage and now. It rises under his skin and stays there, just in reach, only sometimes – like this. Like now.

 

Hyungwon doesn’t say anything in response to that. They pass the bottle between them, careful not to drop it, and finish it off in silence. It’s not nearly enough to get either of them drunk, but the heat of it pools in Gunhee’s belly, loosens his limbs until he feels less stiff, less frozen. He’s grateful for it.

 

They throw the bottle away, lingering on the outskirts of Hannam-dong. The heart of it is a storm of people and bright lights at this time. The deeper they venture in, the more white noise rushes over them, breaking the calm. He almost wishes they’d stayed there, at the edge of the river, no matter how useless their time would be there. Their pace, however, is slow and lethargic; Hyungwon walks like his feet are rooted to the ground, unwilling to push him forward, and it gives Gunhee just enough time to catch up. There is no urgency to get anywhere, which is nice, but there is an underlying restlessness that makes him think that this is still building up, like there’s a definite peak to reach. Hyungwon’s face is lowered so Gunhee’s cap covers him up, and from the side, Gunhee can see how his hair hangs over his brows, his eyes.

 

“Do you have a face mask?” he asks Gunhee as they wander past a 7-11. It’s completely out of the blue, but Hyungwon makes Gunhee stop there, as if he wants to buy one if Gunhee says no.

 

“Yes?”

 

“ _Right now_ , I mean,” Hyungwon clarifies. Upon Gunhee’s affirmation and wandering hand towards his pocket, he nods, watching the crowd. "Wear it.”

 

That throws him off. “What? Why?”

 

“Just do it. I can’t be seen out here—” Hyungwon cuts himself off abruptly, not looking at Gunhee. He crosses his arms over his chest, and Gunhee can see the fabric of his shirt bunch up just slightly when he clutches at it. It’s defensive. Nothing like the easy grace Hyungwon had held himself with earlier. It rubs Gunhee the wrong way.

 

“What do you mean?” He doesn’t mean for his voice to come out so… sharply. It's not fitting. A reflexive smile stretches his lips to cover it up, feeling foreign on his face.

 

The damage is done, though. The effect of his tone is Hyungwon cutting his gaze to him again, irate. His eyes are narrowed. “ _Wear it_ ,” he says slowly, enunciating the syllables like he thinks Gunhee’s just a stupid dog that’ll go along with what he says if he says it clearly enough.

 

“Oh, I get it. What, you don't wanna be seen out here with me now?” Gunhee asks, aiming for laughing it off, but the words come out clunky, clumsy. His face feels hot, and the hair on the back of his head is stirring with the bloodrush. It’s hard enough keeping a straight face when Hyungwon’s looking at him with the open disdain written into what little Gunhee can see of his features, but he has to keep his voice steady, too. It’s such a change from before, but this is _familiar_ , now, the contempt and all. Gunhee has to make sure to keep the bitterness out of his incredulous laugh. “Now that you're an idol? All shiny and sparkly?”

 

“Are you an idiot?” Hyungwon says, clearly not in the mood. “Don’t joke. You know what’ll happen if someone recognizes us here?”

 

“Why is it such a big deal to you?”

 

“You saw what happened with Wonho-hyung.”

 

It shuts Gunhee up for a bare second. Of course he saw what happened with Wonho; PR is still trying to do damage control over it. Of course he knows how Wonho should have been more _careful_ – that’s what any idol should _do_ – especially considering how he totes himself as the company’s favourite all rounder. Still, doing the stupid shit Wonho did isn’t comparable to walking around with Gunhee—

 

“What does Wonho have to do with any of this?” Gunhee asks, just before it clicks. For a second, the anger whites him out completely, until all that’s left is the clawing knowledge that Hyungwon’s _that_ ashamed of him.

 

Then the indignation pours in: Gunhee isn’t that bad, isn’t _dirty_ or _bad_ or… anything that makes a scandal. He’s a fucking trainee, is all; so what if he smokes and drinks? He's not stupid enough to get caught doing it. He's not stupid enough to keep the photos on the internet. If he’d been a little more vindictive, he’d have asked: _what’s being associated with _me_ gonna do to you, pretty boy?_

 

Hyungwon doesn’t even give him the chance to gather his words and say it. “Just wear a fucking mask, Gunhee,” he grits out, and turns towards the street again like he’s impatient for Gunhee to run out of steam so they can go and do… whatever Hyungwon wants him to do. He still doesn’t even know _that_. “You shouldn’t be recognized out here, either.”

 

“Don't pull that bullshit,” Gunhee says with another disbelieving laugh, barely more than a huff of breath through his nose. “It’s not a fucking crime to walk around Seoul, even if you're an idol. You think—” _you're too good for that?_

 

But Hyungwon is already hissing at him to keep his voice down, even before he registers what Gunhee says, and his hands are half-raised as if he wants to either shush Gunhee or... shake him, or something. Maybe it would be justified. It doesn't calm him down at all, but it serves as a reminder that they're still in public. It is only now that he notices how close they have gotten during this, but he doesn't want to back off.

 

"If that's the attitude you have towards this, it's really no wonder you're not an idol."

 

It stings. Of course it does. "If," he starts, "if you brought me out here to rub it in my face—"

 

"I didn't."

 

"Then—"

 

"I brought you out here because I want you to fuck me," Hyungwon hisses furiously. His voice is acidic, venomous as can be, but there's a tremble to it that Gunhee can't place. The way he recoils after makes it seem like he didn't want to say it out loud. He clams up tight right after saying it, so quickly that Gunhee almost thinks he imagined it, but then he notices how Hyungwon's hands twitch by his sides, as if he wants to pluck the words from the air and press them back into his mouth. "No one can see us together, Gun—they’ll ruin my career, they’ll fuck up _your_ career. We can’t—just wear the fucking mask."

 

It's an overload: Gunhee's still stuck on _I want you to fuck me_ , but the way the rest tumbles out of Hyungwon like a rush holds his attention when the shock starts to fade. They haven't— he hasn't... done anything with Hyungwon in months. He hasn't even _talked_ to him for longer than five minutes in months. "You want me to what?" he asks stupidly, wetting his lips.

 

Hyungwon seems to notice their close proximity now, too. He blinks himself composed and moves back, not looking him in the eye. Gunhee misses him instantly. "Do you not want to?" he asks. His voice is perfectly even this time, smoothing out further from the sandpaper sounds of the city around them, but Gunhee's thinking of how he kept acting paranoid earlier. How he keeps acting paranoid, now. It makes him wonder if the tremble he'd heard before had been one of fear.

 

“What sort of question is that?” he mumbles when the silence stretches on for too long, turning his head to the side.

 

“No?”

 

He could say no. It’s an out, no matter how expectant Hyungwon sounds. But Gunhee isn’t good at playing games, and wants, so desperately, a chance to not disappoint him. “Fuck. Yeah. Yeah, I want to.”

 

Hyungwon doesn’t seem convinced, still quiet, watching him. At first Gunhee feels a little bit stupid for – expecting something more than the tension in his shoulders relaxing a little bit, but not leaving. Only the thought of Hyungwon _wanting_ him keeps him from demanding for an explanation. He doesn’t want to fuck this up.

 

“I haven’t seen you in a bit,” he says, partially to fill the silence between them and partially to keep Hyungwon’s attention on him, knowing that his want is written open on his face, now that they’ve put the option on the table. He can’t hide it, even though he struggles to, now that he can place the reason for Hyungwon’s fidgeting. He wishes that he could see his face. “That’s all.”

 

“I didn’t know you were waiting for me.”

 

“I wasn’t. The last time I saw you,” Gunhee starts, brows furrowing, but then he pauses; he sees Hyungwon at the company, all the time, like a ghost, tall and slim and so quiet as he walks around the corner that Gunhee almost thinks he’s imagining it in the early summer heat. They don’t talk, face to face; the few times they passed each other in the hallways had always been too rushed. He hasn’t _seen_ him in this way since the last time, three months ago.

 

“But you want me.”

 

“I…” Hyungwon isn’t acting like he wants him. He hasn’t _acted_ like he wants him, but he has always been good at hiding whatever he feels. Even when Gunhee is floundering, an open book, he is closed up and locked tight and distant. This is the norm, but with the confusion rising in him about _why_ , Gunhee can’t help but continue: “Why now? Why did you call me after…”

 

“Same reason I called you the first time.”

 

“Convenience?”

 

Hyungwon hums tunelessly, and at the look on Gunhee’s face, his shoulders relax. He looks to the river, still glinting with artificial lights from the bridge in the distance, prettied up at night for the masses. It’s only partly a dismissal, Gunhee thinks, but it quiets him. “Exactly.”

 

 

♠

 

 

The hotel is dimly lit even at the reception, with a large, elegant flower motif spanning the wall behind the reception desk. It smells like sandalwood. Other than the lighting, it looks like any other hotel reception out there. Despite this, suddenly, he’s glad for his face mask, and reaches up to fix his hair across his forehead so more of his face is covered. They’d had to duck into an alleyway to find this, because every place like this is always tucked away deeper than deep into winding streets and tiny, tiny spaces between buildings. Easy to miss, but easy to be recognized near as more than a mannequin face in the moving crowd.

 

Hyungwon is a long, tense frame beside him, only stiffening further when the woman behind the counter looks up at them. She looks completely normal: her graying hair is in a tight bun, and her lips are painted dark and striking. Her brow ticks upwards, mouth twisting into something that he isn’t sure how to read. His heart jumps to his throat and stays, even when she doesn’t say anything past asking: “Two?”

 

Instead of answering her, Hyungwon nods, keeping his head low. He’s still wearing Gunhee’s cap, positioned low so his face is covered completely. In this lighting, his hair colour looks darker, too; even though plenty of people have the same hair colour as he does, Gunhee feels like he would be conscious about that. It makes him feel a little bit awkward, out of place, and makes something soft and guilty pull his breath out of his lungs.

 

(He can remember a time, cramped in an empty practice room in the beginning of the year, when he had gravitated to Hyungwon just as helplessly as he’d resented him for being included in the line-up a few days prior. He doesn’t think he can ever forget the way Hyungwon pulled him close, but kept his hands on his shoulders, tight and restraining, and stared at the door over his shoulder like he could see right through. “We can’t, not here, not here, not now—”)

 

It makes him pull his wallet out and push money onto the counter. “In advance,” Gunhee tells her.

 

Slowly, the woman’s mouth eases. “You can pay by the hour.”

 

“Thank you,” Hyungwon says, voice a little deeper than it is usually, and accepts the key being slid across the desk. His baggy clothes do well in covering the tension up, but the pink light of the hallway they’re directed into throws the bones of his hand into strange shadows, all the more visible when he opens the door for them.

 

It opens into a reasonably-sized room washed with purple light, smelling a little bit like cigarette smoke under the sandalwood air freshener. A large bed is obviously the centerpiece of the room. There are lights set into the headboard, glowing warm and pink over the black pillows. The covers are black as well, pulled over white sheets. A floral design stretches across the wall the bed is pushed up against, thickly lined and impressive, similar to the one they'd seen in the lobby. The rest of the room doesn't put on airs, either: there's a TV on the wall opposite, and a dresser to the side of the bed. A tissue box sits on it, along with condoms, lube, and what looks like the TV's remote.

 

Hyungwon closes the door behind him with a click, taking his cap and face mask off and setting them all on the dresser. "Take it off," he murmurs, but he's already pulling Gunhee's mask off for him, too, careful fingers brushing against the shell of his ear as he peels it away. He turns to the remote after, fiddling with it. It turns out that it’s a universal remote instead of just for the TV, so they turn the air conditioner on to battle the stagnant heat.

 

Underneath it all, he keeps thinking of the words _you can pay by the hour_ , unable to truly bring himself to believe them. If they wanted, they could stay for more than an hour. It's a novelty they've only had once before.

 

Even if they're still on borrowed time, it's _different_ knowing that this... is a different world, in a sense. This room is a different world entirely, detached from their lives: it's bare and seedy and without personality past the heady implications of sex. It's... something. For once, the seconds ticking by aren't at the forefront of his mind. Gunhee can't decide if it's safe or unsettling.

 

A tug on his sleeve, and Hyungwon turning him around to kiss him, hard and deep, against the dresser. He licks into his mouth and presses their bodies together. It catches on very quickly. When Gunhee reaches to the back of Hyungwon’s neck to find the knob of his vertebra at his nape, jutting because of how he has angled his head to meet him, Hyungwon pushes his arm down and places his hands at his narrow hips.

 

“Here,” he breathes, sliding his hands up his arms. One of them lingers over the tough, ugly skin of the thick scar over Gunhee’s elbow, and Gunhee has to detach himself to pull Hyungwon’s arms around his neck.

 

“Here,” he echoes, maybe a little challenging. Defiant. But Hyungwon doesn’t push, doesn’t ask about the scar. Nothing like that. Just threads his fingers through Gunhee’s hair and tugs him back into him again; this is what they’re good for, when it comes to each other. Convenient and _good_ , and last time was supposed to be the _last_ time but Gunhee isn’t complaining about one more. Hyungwon pulls away just to turn and fumble for the lube, fingers clutching the bottle by the cap as they move to the bed, impatient. The shine of his red, red lips is distracting Gunhee too much.

 

“Pretty fucking lips,” he tells him, plating their hips together and grinding into the crease of Hyungwon’s thigh and hip. “You should suck me off.”

 

"You should get me off,” Hyungwon answers flatly, fumbling with his pants zip. Gunhee’s hands are just as clumsy, but he tries to help him the best he can, until they’re both peeling them off. Long fucking legs, gorgeous. He lingers on the shape of them, on Hyungwon’s pretty thighs and bent knees, before he pulls his underwear off for him too, tossing it somewhere to the side. He doesn’t care where it lands, instead wrapping his fingers around Hyungwon’s cock.

 

“Aren’t you supposed to say please?” Gunhee asks.

 

“Aren’t _you_ supposed to say please?”

 

“You asked me to come here.”

 

“I don’t need you.” He’s smiling.

 

“You _want_ me, though, don’t you?”

 

Hyungwon doesn’t answer. He sits down hard on the bed, and Gunhee grabs him by the waist and pushes him higher up the mattress. They drag the covers halfway off as they go, careless, and he impatiently pushes them to the side, straight off the bed, where they lie in a crumpled heap. Hyungwon is even more fucking irresistible now, leaning on his elbows, legs just slightly parted. His cock rests over the crease of his thigh, curving a little bit, just slightly visible. Like an invitation. “Come here.”

 

Fuck. Fuck, okay.

 

“You really want my cock, huh?”

 

“Shut up and touch me,” Hyungwon says, like a command. It’s not really an answer, but there’s a tenseness in the long, graceful lines of Hyungwon’s body, corded into him. Gunhee can’t remember having seen him relax at all, all through the night. He’s not sure where the observation comes from, and supposes that this is why Hyungwon came to him, but he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. Right now, he doesn’t care enough to ask again. He curves over Hyungwon and promises to himself to undress later, when he’s done sucking marks on his skin.

 

“No, I meant,” Hyungwon starts, then trails off when Gunhee sinks his teeth into the soft, warm flesh of his inner thigh, jolting a little bit.

 

“Yeah?” he can’t help but say, through the faintest taste of salt and the beginnings of a grin on his lips. “What did you mean, baby?”

 

Hyungwon practically tosses the bottle of lube at him, but he’s not leaving. “Do you need everything spelled out? Catch up.”

 

He straightens and grabs it, resisting the urge to ask Hyungwon to use his words, say he wants Gunhee’s fingers inside him. All it takes is a push to Hyungwon’s shoulder and he’s falling on his back, easy as blowing away a feather. He’s easy to turn over onto his stomach, too, and Gunhee slips into the space between his spread thighs and nudges them open wider, smoothing his hands up Hyungwon’s sides so his shirt bunches against his wrists, and then down to his hips. “Alright?”

 

He shifts a little bit in Gunhee’s grip, making himself as comfortable as he can. Instead of asking him again, Gunhee cracks the bottle of lube open, pouring it on. It is a little bit thicker than the brand he's used to, cool and sticky between his fingers. He warms it up, admiring the sight of Hyungwon on his stomach, ass raised for him. His thighs are so long, so slim, and the skin is unmarred; he wants to suck marks onto them – and, fuck, his hole. He _looks_ so tight. Gunhee can’t wait to be inside him. "Show me, baby," he teases, not expecting a positive reaction.

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“That’s right, talk dirty to me –”

 

“You’re fucking pushing it,” Hyungwon growls, raising himself onto his elbows to throw a vicious glare back at him.

 

Teasing Hyungwon is fun, especially when he can’t retaliate, but he really _is_ pushing it. He hastens to win his way back into Hyungwon's good graces by rubbing circles with the pad of his finger on his rim, only feeling brave enough to kiss the curve of Hyungwon's back once he’s loosened up enough for him to dip it just slightly into him. The glare Hyungwon had been wearing lessens in intensity until he’s just _watching_ him over his shoulder, and Gunhee glances up, torn between watching his finger sink into Hyungwon and holding eye contact for those long, heated seconds.

 

There is a generous amount of lube, so his finger practically slips in once he fucks into him a few times. The feeling of Hyungwon’s ass around him, even if it’s just a finger, is just… so tight, so wet, so hot. It makes him so fucking impatient. He can _see_ the stretch of his rim, closed around his finger. He can’t imagine, even though he’s already felt it, _exactly_ how good he would feel around his cock.

 

It's slow, at first. Hyungwon is incredibly tight, like he's being forced open by Gunhee's finger. He is mostly mesmerized by the vision: Hyungwon pushes his face into his forearms, inching ever so slightly back against Gunhee, as if he wants to work himself open on Gunhee’s still hand. Pink light drips onto his skin, glowing and shadowed all at once: it shines on the knobs of his spine, ladder rungs dipping into a deep arch at the small of his back. It is the backlight to his messy hair, like an illicit halo.

 

Maybe it's the knowledge that they won't be walked in upon that makes Gunhee really take it all in. His eyes have adjusted to the dark well enough to see Hyungwon's thighs tremble and twitch closer together when he presses in at the right angle. He’s so fucking hot. Gunhee eases another finger into him, all the way to the second knuckle before he has to draw back a little for leeway, swallowing hard at the soft sound Hyungwon tries to muffle into the sheets. _Fuck._

 

"Hurry."

 

"A little bit more," he murmurs, even though he's so hard it almost hurts, leaning down to kiss at the curve of Hyungwon’s spine. He angles himself again and searches, searches, until he finds that spot once more, until he's rubbing at it. It would be relieving just to pull himself out of his pants, but Gunhee can't bring himself to do that quite yet—not when Hyungwon is pushing back into his touch, shifting his weight so he can touch himself too, long fingers tugging at his cock. Gunhee is briefly struck with the idea of licking at him, tongue pressed along his fingers at Hyungwon’s hole. The thought makes him uncomfortably hot; he’s seen it in videos and all, but he’s never tried to… do it. He can’t stop thinking about what it might feel like, what Hyungwon might feel like because of it.

 

"Stop playing around." There's a sense of urgency to Hyungwon's voice, now. It's prominent, impatient. He reaches a hand back to hold (steady?) Gunhee’s wrist. It grounds him.

 

“What, no foreplay? That’s not like you.”

 

Hyungwon looks over his shoulder to narrow his eyes at him. He looks dangerously close to vaulting off the bed. “Did you always talk so much? Do it properly—"

 

 _Properly_ means three fingers working him relaxed and open in the right pace, so he's stretched out and wet and _good_ for Gunhee, for himself. He likes it deep, when Gunhee draws his fingers almost all the way out and slides them back in hard, up to the last knuckle. The first time they'd rushed it, Hyungwon had made him pull out and stretch him open with his fingers all over again, tight and wet and squeezing him hard in the fear that they’ll get caught. _You won't last long enough for someone to walk in on us anyway_ , he had whispered, voice between teasing and displeased behind the strain. Gunhee doesn't know how he manages to have such an effect on him.

 

He wants to – do _so much_ to him. He wants to bite down at all his tender parts, lean in and slip his tongue against his skin, maybe, just once, holding him bruise-tight by the hip. He wants to fuck him when he can’t move so he can’t do anything but take Gunhee, until that edge to his voice becomes breathy and overwhelmed. Maybe, near the end of it, he’ll pull out and make Hyungwon prove how much he wants it, wants Gunhee, before he gives his cock to him again. He wants to whittle his pride down into nothing and make him—

 

Three fingers twisting inside, dripping wet down the curve of his wrist, and Hyungwon is already infinitely better than the fantasy Gunhee has in his head. He is tangible, real, easy to focus on until he’s _everything_ to focus on. His thighs are trembling, and he works his hips back on Gunhee’s fingers with these wrecked moans once he speeds up and starts fucking him in earnest. In, out, beat solid in his head, and he reaches around to stroke Hyungwon’s cock, hanging heavy and inviting between his legs, along with the harsh fucks into his ass. Gunhee can't take it any longer, past Hyungwon panting as he practically rides his hand, hissing for him to get up there, fuck him now, he's ready. Leaning over Hyungwon to seal their lips together, wet and hot, sounds like a much better idea than wasting time kicking his pants off fully, but they don’t have an elastic waistband, so he _has_ to. He wants to fuck him hard enough to make him feel it to the bone, to the very bottom of the pit of tension and heat in the center of his stomach.

 

He falls back into Hyungwon the second he’s kicked his pants fully off of himself, chest to back, taking care not to crush him. He grinds their hips together, and his moan is lost in the space between their mouths when he dips down to kiss him over his shoulder. Hyungwon's lips are swollen and red, like he's been biting down on them, and Gunhee thinks, wildly, _I did that, I made him—_

 

"Condom," Hyungwon gasps against Gunhee's mouth. He doesn't let him leave when he makes to get off, though, twisting onto his side to reach for his wallet. He flips through, then pulls a condom out of it and shoves it into Gunhee's hands, cursing under his breath. "Hurry, hurry, fuck—"

 

"I'm doing it, shut up already—" His hands are shaking so bad that he barely manages to tear the wrapper. They don't stop trembling while rolls it on and lubes up, but he manages, and Hyungwon pulls him back in as soon as he wipes his hand on the sheets. It's hard to think like this, when Hyungwon is being – not _needy_ (that word feels a little strange in his mouth when used for him), but demanding. There's a confidence in his gestures that always rubs Gunhee the wrong way, like he's sure that Gunhee will do whatever he tells him to.

 

But, no, that’s wrong too, he… he doesn’t mind it. Is just a little bit uncomfortable with the amount of control in Hyungwon’s hands, the imbalance of it, unspoken. (Even if Gunhee has Hyungwon under him, waiting for him to get _inside_ him, Hyungwon is _still_ in control.)

 

For just a second, he considers not giving Hyungwon exactly what he wants. Make him work for it. He'd _die_ to see that. Realistically, though, he wouldn't beg and writhe and ask Gunhee for it prettily like he wants to see; he'd probably get up and leave right there.

 

He makes him want to do better, prove himself to him.

 

Gunhee can’t help but protest when Hyungwon moves to roll onto his stomach again. “Wait, can we…” he says, one hand on the inside of Hyungwon’s thigh. When he doesn’t fight him, he pushes him onto his back, settling in between his splayed legs.

 

"Like this?" Hyungwon asks quietly, but surprisingly doesn’t reprimand him. "I don't care. Hold on, I need..."

 

He reaches out to pull one of the pillows towards him, lifting his hips so he can shove it underneath them. He takes a little while to get comfortable, but Gunhee is still reeling from how easily he had acquiesced to say anything impatient. The look on Hyungwon’s face melts into something expectant when he settles, lighting fires in Gunhee's wrists, his belly, coaxing him back to him.

 

They look outright filthy: Hyungwon's skin through a haze of pink and purple, the dips of his skin shadowed. It contrasts with the glow of the light over the long lines of his thighs, his hipbones, the valleys of his ribs – even on his hair, tousled and messy and fanned out, falling away from his forehead. It drips on the apple of his cheek, too, and his nose – all the swells of his skin. Gunhee can’t tear his eyes away. Pre glistens over the head of his cock and the plane of his stomach, pooled into his bellybutton. His black shirt covers the rest of the view, bunched at his chest.

 

The light catches on Gunhee's cock, too, shining lurid and neon. His skin is washed the same purple-pink as Hyungwon's, and he likes the way it makes them look like… like they don’t have boundaries, melded together as they are. The bend of Hyungwon's leg shadows them when he pulls him close by the hips, hikes them up for better access, but he can still see it: the shine on his skin, the way it looks when he teases him, just barely pressing in. He can feel how Hyungwon’s hole flutters against the head of it in time with his breathing. Hyungwon gasps when he lines up, arches a little bit into it, like he wants it _that bad_. It's so different from how he usually has him (used to have him, he corrects himself in his head), with Hyungwon always being so collected. This is new. This is a little bit strange, too, but it—it makes him feel like he's not the only one stumbling over himself in want.

 

Hyungwon around his cock is infinitely better than Hyungwon around his fingers. Gunhee isn’t the only one affected: Hyungwon has his mouth falling open at the stretch and his brows tilting. He’s unreal, even better than he’d expected, like always; he’s so slick, and the slide has just enough friction to nudge everything _this_ close to being overwhelming. Gunhee pushes inside slowly, lowering himself onto his elbow to thunk his forehead against Hyungwon’s shoulder, the other still on the base of his cock to steady himself. It’s hard to fuck inside all at once; Hyungwon is clenching around him _almost_ painfully tight, but his hands are clawed on the sheets and he’s not telling him to stop so Gunhee doesn’t. Just grits his teeth and sinks all the way in and tries not to fuck him raw right there.

 

Hyungwon moans once he’s worked himself inside, and the sound makes his entire body feel burning hot. "Fuck,” Gunhee breathes, “you're good, hyung, you're so… fucking _look_ at you..."

 

Hyungwon's hands smooth over his arms, over his scar and his tattoos, coming to a rest at Gunhee’s nape. "Stop treating me like I'll break, you _know_ I..."

 

“I know. I know.”

 

“Fuck me,” Hyungwon says, strained, moving his hips into Gunhee’s cock. The slow, subtle drag of his ass draws a moan deep out of Gunhee’s chest. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Do it, fuck me, I’ll take it.”

 

“I missed you,” Gunhee moans into the curve of Hyungwon’s shoulder, one hand cradling the back of Hyungwon’s head. He brings him in, ever-careful, for a kiss, wet and open-mouthed. “So much, babe, you don’t even know.”

 

He can _feel_ Hyungwon’s frown in the downturn of his lips, caught against his own, before he even pulls back and away from Gunhee. “Missed this,” he hurries to follow up, his heartbeat drumming hard enough to hurt. The rush of panic refuses to leave until Hyungwon stops looking at him like _that_ , with the questions and warnings in his eyes. “Missed your body—”

 

“Yeah?” Hyungwon breathes, relaxing a little bit but not all the way. His eyes are still open, searching him for a mistake he can seize and use against him.

 

“Missed your ass. You’re so fucking hot.” Gunhee slides his hands all the way down Hyungwon’s torso to hold onto his hips, fingertips digging into the skin to keep him where he is. He takes a deep breath, slides all the way out.

 

All the way back in.

 

Hyungwon’s entire body locks up, and his breath leaves him in a rush. Gunhee does it again, once, letting himself slide free and then pushing past the resistance again and again. He has to splay his palms wide over Hyungwon’s thighs to keep them spread open; the muscles strain and jump under his touch. If he felt hot at Hyungwon’s moan, now he feels like a fucking inferno. “You’re so tight for me, baby.”

 

“Don’t call me that,” Hyungwon snaps, but he’s not untangling himself anymore, staying put. He’s touching, too, almost curiously, running his hands over Gunhee’s chest, down his sides, all the way around to his back. He stops at the jut of his shoulder blades, long fingertips reaching to touch the knobs of his vertebra, standing out against his skin. Then the sting of his nails settles in, sharp through the heat and the haze, drawing a hiss out of Gunhee’s throat. “Why aren’t you fucking me?”

 

“Did you miss my cock that much?” Gunhee asks, breaking into a grin that turns into a grimace when Hyungwon rakes his nails down his back, down to his ass. “ _Fuck_ , okay, okay—”

 

“ _Why aren’t you fucking me?”_ Hyungwon repeats, haughty like he usually is. This is good, safe, routine. He likes this Hyungwon, who is shaped more like a challenge and less like all the questions that spin in Gunhee’s head, late at night.

 

“Shit, you’re greedy,” he breathes, but the clever remark he had thought up to follow disappears from the forefront of his mind when he starts moving. The drag of Hyungwon against him is… good. Better than good, better than great. He’s tight even with the prep, but the squeeze feels _perfect_. He doesn’t bother trying to find the words again, too mesmerized by the way he looks, sliding into him, and how Hyungwon’s slim form jolts when he draws out and then fucks back in.

 

He finds a rhythm so quickly that it's almost hard to believe he hasn't had Hyungwon in months. The tells come back to him easily; he remembers how Hyungwon is sensitive at the base of his neck and the spot behind his left ear; how he melts a little when Gunhee sucks on his bottom lip; how he likes being held still by the hips, the waist, when he's being fucked, and how much he hates that he likes it. He turns his head away when Gunhee leans down to kiss him again, his perfect face pinched.

 

“No, no,” he bites out, digging his fingernails into the backs of Gunhee’s thighs, “harder, fuck me _harder_ , come on…”

 

“Yeah? Like this?”

 

“Harder than _that_ , don’t hold back, don’t—” He sounds frustrated, still, working his hips onto Gunhee’s cock in these jerky, uncoordinated movements. “Is this all I get? Should I have gone to someone else?”

 

“Don’t be fucking impatient,” Gunhee hisses back, a flare of jealousy coming to life in his gut. He spreads Hyungwon’s thighs wider and presses them back towards his chest, dizzy with the permission of it and the lack of a reprimand following the action, watching Hyungwon’s face in case he accidentally hurts him. Instead of criticizing him, though, Hyungwon only pushes his hips down, needy in a way he hasn’t ever seen him. His hands have come up to Gunhee’s shoulders again, thumbs pressing into the hollows of his collarbones. He’s completely different from the way he’d been back in the lobby, but Gunhee isn’t complaining, never complaining. “I’ll give you a rough fuck if that’s what you want—”

 

It almost comes easy, really, once he tries. He fucks into him hard enough to jolt him up the bed. It's because of the sight of Hyungwon like this: splayed out and helpless, thighs trembling, chest heaving, clutching Gunhee’s shoulders so tight that he can feel his nails through his shirt. Gunhee bets that every time his hips slap down on his ass he bites back a yelp. He's so fucking _frail;_ Gunhee's not the biggest or broadest guy but even he can hold him down, no problem. He’s such a good fuck. “Like it? Getting shoved down and being made to take cock gets you hot, huh?”

 

Hyungwon’s hands in his hair. Tight grip, fingers curling, a sting across Gunhee’s scalp until he’s hissing, voice wet and wrecked. “You can do better than that. I can fucking take it, I can take better than this.”

 

“More?” Gunhee breathes, gripping the swell of Hyungwon’s calves and pressing them as far back as they’ll go.

 

“Wait, wait, too far—”

 

He can’t help it: he shushes him, stuttery and hesitant, and then tries to pretend he never did it, straightening and hiking Hyungwon’s hips up further so he can readjust the pillow under them and prop them up. Once he’s comfortable, Gunhee rearranges his legs over his arms, hooking one over his shoulder, and climbs on top of him properly. “Better?”

 

Hyungwon makes another one of his sounds that Gunhee can’t figure out, either unable to answer or unwilling, but there’s a furrow to his brow that Gunhee wants, inexplicably, to kiss away, just for a second. Just for a second. But then Hyungwon is squirming, biting his lip all expectant, waiting for him to slide into him again, so he does.

 

Somehow, it’s even better. The give of the mattress and how the weight of Gunhee’s body seems to pin Hyungwon deep into it, so he can’t move, so he can’t do anything, is taking over his entire awareness. He can push himself in deep, now, as deep as he can go, even though he can’t go as fast anymore with how he’s looming over him, but Hyungwon doesn’t seem to dislike it, or how Gunhee smothers him with his smaller, broader body. Gravity does most of the work, and the slap of Gunhee’s hips on Hyungwon’s ass _hurts_ , but it’s a good sort of hurt. He’s going to lose his mind.

 

He’s going to lose his fucking mind.

 

“Better?” Gunhee can’t help but ask again, slowing down to kiss Hyungwon’s chin, the sensitive spots on his neck. “You like it now?”

 

“Ah…”

 

“You’re okay, right?”

 

“Yes,” Hyungwon says, brows furrowed and eyes a bit more focused. He drags Gunhee down by the back of his neck to suck on his tongue in this filthy, unashamed kiss. “Fuck me hard, let me feel...”

 

Gunhee straightens up, grabbing Hyungwon by the waist and pulling him into every thrust until his expression smooths out again and he’s panting hard, like Gunhee’s fucking the air out of him along with the moans, the whimpers. He makes gorgeous sounds when he’s finally loosened up enough, quiet and guilty, like he’s trying not to let them come out but is helpless in the end. Gunhee is high off of it. “It’s for you, this is— it’s good when I fuck you deep, huh? You feel good?”

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Hyungwon finally ( _finally_ ) moans, nodding. He’s reaching between them to touch himself, too, stroking artlessly. “Fuck—”

 

Gunhee slows down. “Tell me. I wanna hear you, babe, come on, tell me...”

 

“ _Faster_ —”

 

He slams his hips into him so hard that the sting of the slap cuts through the haze of pleasure. Hyungwon yelps out loud at the harsh treatment, and Gunhee does it again, and again. “You like it? Say you like it.”

 

He doesn’t expect Hyungwon to answer easily, and he’s not disappointed. It takes a few more rough, snapping thrusts before Hyungwon stops holding in his noises, and then even more before his eyes scrunch shut and he gasps out: “I like it.”

 

“You love it,” Gunhee tells him, not expecting Hyungwon to wet his lips and nod to that, too. It’s too much, and it almost makes him stutter a little bit, unsure if this is a dream or a joke or what, but Hyungwon is murmuring, “I like it, show me, fuck me” and he’s tilting his face up like he wants to kiss him again and Gunhee wants—

 

He _wants_ , and it’s too easy to forget it all and give Hyungwon what he wants. Maybe that’s why he even agreed with him, said yes to liking it, loving it. Maybe he knew it would have this effect on Gunhee, make him shut up quickly and get to business. Up close, he can only really see Hyungwon’s face, his expressions shifting and contorting it, and he can’t help but watch him. It’s _different_ like this, more intense, and Hyungwon’s eyes are so bright that he can’t look away until they scrunch up tightly shut. Maybe even then.

 

He wants to hear him. “Say my name.”

 

“ _Shit_ ,” Hyungwon groans, sounding more wrecked than Gunhee’s ever heard him (or maybe it’s the time between them, between then and now – how long has it been? Three months? And, okay, maybe he’s fantasized, tried to remember, but it can’t compare to the real thing). “Gunhee, Gun-ah—”

 

“Say it,” Gunhee urges, lifting himself up with one hand on the mattress beside Hyungwon’s waist so he can watch his face: pinched brows and open mouth and closed eyes and glowing cheeks. He looks so blissed out under him, reaching up to touch all over Gunhee’s chest, his arms, anchoring his hands on Gunhee’s tattoos, with his index just barely brushing the edge of his scar. He’s even tightening his legs around him like he wants him as close as he can get. “Fuck, baby, you’re driving me crazy. Open your eyes, look— _look_ at me.”

 

Hyungwon’s eyes blink open, and that’s. That’s better, then, because no matter how hard Gunhee tries, he can’t find any trace of displeasure in Hyungwon’s expression. That’s… it shouldn’t be important, but he likes being good, likes knowing the evidence of it, just as tangible as the way he ( _Gunhee_ ) is making Hyungwon ( _Hyungwon_ , Chae Hyungwon) moan, shocked and overwhelmed. It’s nothing but that, and the addiction of it. To it.

 

“Gunhee,” Hyungwon sighs, “Gun, Gun-ah,” and then he chokes up again. Tiny noises still fight out of him, though, striking staccato in between Gunhee’s own. Those bitten off sounds—every fucking time Gunhee hears them—those sounds, stroking his ego, are so fucking _good_.

 

It’s only now that he notices that he’s fucked Hyungwon several inches up the bed, and now his head is hanging dangerously close to the edge of it. He has to detach himself and shuffle backwards on his knees. Hyungwon gasps out a desperate ‘no’ when he detaches himself from him, which inflates Gunhee’s ego all the way, but what’s even better is—what’s _even fucking better_ is how easily he can drag Hyungwon around. He’s so  _light_ , and all Gunhee needs to do to pull him down the bed towards him is tug him back by the ankles; he slides down the mattress so fucking easily. And then Gunhee leans over him and slides his hands under him and adjusts him over the pillow to his liking, and Hyungwon just—lets him, reaches down to splay his hands over his inner thighs so Gunhee can push all of his cock all the way in, then wraps his legs around his waist.

 

Now that they’re not positioned in such a cramped, tight way, Hyungwon can pull Gunhee down on top of him again, chest to chest. Gunhee can feel Hyungwon’s bony knuckles against his stomach when he strokes himself, erratic and stuttering. Presses his mouth to the soft, soft skin of his neck and tries not to leave too many marks even though that’s all he wants to do: leave his name all over Hyungwon’s skin, mark him up until he’s reminded of Gunhee whenever he looks at himself in the mirror. Neon signs to show his presence.

 

“Don’t,” Hyungwon mutters when he scrapes his teeth over his skin, but it’s been too long. It hasn’t been long enough. Both. He bites, fitting his mouth over his chest to suck anyway, salt on his stinging lips. Leaves a map all over him, from his chest to the curve of his shoulder to the column of his neck, and then to his lips until he’s sucked them dark and wet.

 

“Someone will see,” Hyungwon insists into his mouth, for all the good it does, digging his nails into Gunhee’s skin. “If I…”

 

“Let them see.”

 

“I can’t.”

 

Gunhee presses their foreheads together, eyes closed. Fuck, he can imagine it. He can imagine Hyungwon’s body in brighter light, all messed up from him. “I wanna… hyung, I’m, fuck, I wanna come so bad…”

 

His legs are locked up tight, now, but the deep, slow fucks he’s giving Hyungwon are just as effective in making him lose his own mind. He tries to hold on, but it’s— it’s impossible, when Hyungwon is running his hands up and down his back, above his shirt that has fallen back down over his skin, whining mindless things against his skin in between wet, open-mouthed kisses.

 

“Hold on,” Hyungwon tells him, too, like he hasn’t been saying things that make Gunhee feel like he’s about to snap. “Hold on, I’m close, make me come, I’m going to…”

 

“I can’t,” Gunhee tries to say, and then, "Hyungwon, I..." His pace stutters and his vision whites out and _fuck_ , everything around him is Hyungwon, Hyungwon, his pretty lips with his pretty voice, whispering something Gunhee doesn’t hear and doesn’t remember later, and he’s spilling into his condom with a loud groan.

 

He keeps on moving his hips, riding it out, like he really is fucking himself back into Hyungwon, like his body has forgotten how to keep from losing to him – it’s the time between them, he’s sure of it, that makes him frenzied. He can hear Hyungwon whimpering under the sound of own groans and his blood beating in his ears. He’s so sensitive it _hurts_ after a while. When he can’t take it, he grinds all the way in and then pulls back out, slow and careful and watching himself. Two beats and Hyungwon tenses, clenches down hard, spilling all over his stomach while only Gunhee’s cockhead is still inside him, lips parted and just barely brushing against his. Completely silent, completely fucked out. It fills Gunhee with a sense of smug accomplishment before he even figures out which way is up.

 

The burn in his thighs has set in deep by the time Hyungwon rolls him off of himself, still quiet, and lays there for a bit, catching his breath. His legs are still splayed, falling open suggestively. Gunhee can’t stop looking, even when he’s fumbling with pulling off the condom and throwing it away in the wastebasket. Hyungwon has the imprint of Gunhee all over him – records, evidence – and it makes him want to dive into him again, just one more time. Wrap him up around himself and fuck him so good he won’t be able to stand up and walk anywhere else.

 

He’s not allowed, though. They said the last time was the _last_ time, but this... they weren’t supposed to do this.

 

A smoke would be good, right about now.

 

He dabs them both clean with the tissues on the drawer, but Hyungwon recovers first, gathering his shaky legs and limping to his discarded clothes. It’s a little bit disappointing, since Gunhee thought he’d fucked him better than that. He totters, practically, like he doesn’t trust himself with walking, and returns to the side of the bed to pull his pants on. A question is stuck in Gunhee’s throat, still half formed – it sounds close to _are you leaving? Already?_

 

But Hyungwon doesn’t leave; he stays there, slumped so his long, graceful frame seems awkward. His arms are trembling, and Gunhee wonders, belatedly, if he’s sleepy. If he’s tired himself out. Then he wonders how Hyungwon will make the trek from here to the road, if he wants to find a taxi. Gunhee could take him home, maybe. It’s a stupid thing to think about, but with the way he’d been limping before...

 

Then it strikes him: Hyungwon looks _tired_.

 

Not in the way he is after sex. Not the way he should be tired. Sometimes, after sex, Hyungwon allows himself to stay, heavy-boned and natural and a little bit softer than he normally is. This time, he looks like he’s thinking, contemplative, but the jut of his spine and the way he holds himself is a little bit different from how Gunhee remembers him. It makes him look small and in reach. All he can see of him is the long line of his back, and the way his shirt hangs off of him, and the curve of his cheek, lined with the eerie light. Something pulls at Gunhee’s chest, at the blood centered there, soft and pained.

 

“Hey,” he whispers, reaching out to touch his shoulder. He thinks better of it at the last second, letting his hand fall to the mattress, right beside Hyungwon’s hand. “Are you…”

 

All the endings to that seem like they’re not… right. It trails off into nothing, and Gunhee almost feels like he’s made a mistake, or read too deep into things. Stupid, stupid. He’s about to pull his hand back when Hyungwon straightens, stretching his back out like a cat. “Yes,” he answers, even though Gunhee had never finished his sentence. There’s something there, but he doesn’t expand on it at all. Gunhee doesn’t know how to ask him to.

 

Hyungwon has always been too proud to look at him, in the aftermath.

 

He ends up not asking. Hyungwon pushes his hand back through his hair and puts his shoes and face mask on, going for Gunhee’s cap too before remembering it’s not his and tossing it towards him with a soft ‘oh’.

 

Gunhee should say something. That’s how it usually goes when someone has the time to do it – a goodbye, at least, or something similar, as Hyungwon grabs his wallet and moves towards the door. “You have enough for the taxi home, right?” he asks, just before he opens it, hand poised on the doorknob.

 

“I guess,” Gunhee begins to say, and then: “wait –”

 

But Hyungwon’s already pulling the door open and slipping past, into air that doesn’t smell of sex and smoke, leaving Gunhee’s words hanging between them, dispelled into nothing when the door clicks shut.

 

**Author's Note:**

> \- the song playing in the taxi was [green nocturne](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E3Uf3PyB60U) by nell  
> \- this ficbit was inspired by [grace kim's photography](http://theredlist.com/wiki-2-16-860-897-1107-view-existentialism-1-profile-kim-grace.html), specifically these images: [1](http://theredlist.com/media/database/photography/contemporaine/existentialisme/grace-kim/019-grace-kim-theredlist.jpg), [2](http://theredlist.com/media/database/photography/contemporaine/existentialisme/grace-kim/018-grace-kim-theredlist.jpg)
> 
> thank you so much for reading!! comments are VERY VERY much appreciated ♡


End file.
